


Sentimental

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [147]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Food Issues, HYDRA Husbands, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Old Married Couple, Post-Coital, Retirement, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: “I really do need to start goin’ back to the gym, this domestic bliss shit is gonna kill me.”
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [147]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/547894
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	Sentimental

Jack laid out next to Brock’s body, wiping the drying cum off his dick before he folded the washcloth and carefully ran it over the gentle swell of his husband's stomach.

Brock paused Jack’s hand by putting his on it, forcing the motions to cease as they kept locked together at his ribs.

“Ya do that a lot, don’t ya?” Brock slowly said, careful and casual, his eyes slowly drawing up Jack’s body before locking with his, tucking his other hand up behind his head.

“Do what?” Jack asked, curious. He wasn’t sure exactly what Brock meant, as far as he knew they weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary after sex. They went through their normal routine of touching and kissing each other mostly  _ everywhere _ around the house before Jack could get his hands and mouth underneath clothing, which didn’t take long before they were fucking. He always made it his goal to wear Brock out, like it was a game, so unsurprisingly enough he was usually the one to go get a washcloth and run it under warm water. 

“Ya touch my stomach a lot.” Brock clarified, his tone was even but it was deliberate. Jack was familiar with it, Brock opening the floor to conversation but his emotions set in the ready if the urge came to him.

“Oh yeah?” Jack said, curiously gazing at the topic in question. Generally he just liked having his hands all over Brock; at his ass, fingers grazing through his hair when Brock allowed it, one hand pressed to the small of his back, moulding his hands along Brock’s hips when he’d be riding Jack, even hooking pinkie fingers together like a couple of teenagers on occasion when out in public. He hadn’t really noticed any specific pattern or focus on Brock’s stomach though.

“Yeah, ya do.” Brock insisted. “Doesn’t seem like it’s on purpose though, ya usually jus touch where ya wanna unless m’avin’ a mood but it seems to be makin’ a ‘abit of it. I supposed it’s been since I’ve been slackin’.” 

That seemed to make sense, Jack supposed. Even he’d admit he had gotten more ‘hands on’ since they had an abundance of free time and stopped with the missions. Jack was never this tactile before with anyone else, and Brock was a huge exception to that, it seemed to only curry in his favor when they weren’t out in public with the team anymore, and Brock learned to take in the peace of finally getting to spend personal time together more seriously. It was possible Jack developed habits not even he realized.

“Wanna tell me what’s so fascinatin’ about my stomach?” It was asked in a way that Jack easily picked up as a red flag and a warning for him to tread carefully. Brock had always been vain, been aware of his good looks, but he’d always been waiting for them to betray him and now with his home life being more domestic with Jack and less active outside of their home, it was only a matter of time before his body would start showing more softer edges. 

Jack slipped his hand out from underneath Brock’s, tossing the washcloth to the floor before returning and resting his palm against Brock’s navel. He got a raised brow in return, Brock waiting for an answer.

“This ain’t some kinda weird fetish is it? I know you like some odd shit, Rollins. _And don’t ya dare deny it either, I know._ ” Brock inhaled deeply before he let it out low. “But I ain’t sure me gettin’ fat is somethin’ I’m willin’ to indulge ya on.”

Jack burst out laughing outright. He didn’t mean to but he couldn’t help it and it came out of him like a flood of amusement he couldn’t hold back. He adored Brock, didn’t mind anything he did, and the things he found confusing only made him more endearing, like this.

“No, not a fetish.” He uttered when he could find himself again. “Well, not that I know of.”

“Then what is it?” Brock demanded, sounding more confused about it than a few seconds ago and Jack lightly traced his thumb around Brock’s navel, tucking his fingers into a loose fist to stroke his knuckles along soft skin.

Jack thought about it for a moment, sobering up to figure it out. He finally looked up from the fixated gaze he had on Brock’s stomach to meet his eyes. “Remember when we first began to hang out?” Brock gave him a small nod, brows going up a little to tell him to continue. “You had yourself on a really strict diet, portion controlled so obsessively that I swore you got smaller and smaller cups to use..” 

Jack recalled when he began to notice that Brock would feed almost half his plate to Jack’s dog when his back was turned, or he got up to get them refills. He’d thought he was doing well by filling him up when it was dinner at his place, or pizza, or even chinese. The only time he actually saw him eat a big meal where he was sure Brock had eaten it all himself was when they’d get Taco Bell. A weakness that riled Brock up because he couldn’t resist. He was disappointed when he realized it was Mishka getting a full meal, not Brock, so he worked to slowly help undo it in the background the best he could.

“Nowadays, well..” He trailed off, trying to think of the right thing to say. Brock wasn’t fat, far from it, just a little extra weight that seemed to settle around his midsection mostly. Saying he was pudgy or chubby seemed odd, they weren’t the right words, but before he could figure out the right one, Brock’s gaze was set on him in a way that told Jack he already got what he was trying to say. Sinking the side of his head against the pillow, Jack sighed. “I guess it’s not a fetish, but could still be considered weird.”

Brock rolled his eyes and pulled Jack by his wrist until he found himself partially draped over his husband’s body. “God, Rawls, so goddamn sentimental. Ya jus wanna make sure m’takin’ care of m’self, fuckin’ weirdo.” 

All Jack could do was stare at the deadpan expression across Brock’s face before he leaned over to press a kiss to his lips, holding him stupidly tight. He reveled when Brock didn’t push him off, burying his face against his neck that only caused Brock to chuckle, fond. He wasn’t the only sentimental one.

“I really do need to start goin’ back to the gym, this domestic bliss shit is gonna kill me.” Brock admitted, looking down at himself. He raised his hand to stop Jack from arguing about it. " _Not_ like before though, I promise.”

“You could..” Jack started slowly, a smirk across his lips. “ _Or_ you could stay this way, all soft and squishy.” He emphasized by suddenly grabbing a handful of Brock’s ass, making him yelp.

Brock laughed out, but punched his arm at the same time. “We’ll figure out a middle, but I definitely gotta go back.”

Jack rolled them over so Brock was draped over his body, his hand running up his back as he pressed kisses along his jaw, then across his face. “Alright, I suppose I can live with that just as long as you listen to me if I tell you you’re getting into old habits again.”

“Agreed.” Brock murmured, allowing his eyes to slip closed. “I swear, ya only make deals when yer bein’ all cute and after we ‘ave sex.”

“Maybe.” Jack offered between a line of kisses he left along Brock’s collarbone, his hand sliding down to shamelessly cup at Brock’s ass again. “Seems the smartest time to get what I want, or at least find a middle.”

Brock grunted, sensitive but also responsive, his face burying against the crook of Jack’s neck. “Sounds like yer bein’ literal about it.”

“Probably.” Was the last thing Jack admitted to before Brock pawed the covers over their heads and Jack’s hand found that their lube was still tucked under the pillows.


End file.
